A Business Proposal
by Toast and Stitch
Summary: Affections turn quite messy when neither Snape nor Harry can bring their own confessions to light, made no more uncomplicated by the club La Scène Éloignée and those attracted to it.


A Business Proposal

_Swish swish._

"Is the wine to your liking?"

Harry moved his gaze from the deep-red to the man at the other end who was smiling gently. He flushed sightly, but it wasn't like he couldn't blame it on the booze. No worries; he could relax. "It's good." It helped too that the lighting was dim, the air was cool, and the candle light was just so. Not so helpful was the loose collar on the other man.

"But what do you – what can you pick out?" Snape asked, adjusting his long sleeve. "You seemed to stare quite intently at it."

He let out a bit of the air he'd been holding. "I was just thinking..." _That you look great when you're smiling_. "Well, the color reminded me of school." He was thinking quickly, hoping he didn't sound fake and stupid. "I mean, it's weird that we're sitting here together – we would've _killed_ each other if this was a few years ago."

"Ah..." He took a sip of his own glass, spoke through the burn. "We probably would not be dining together, no."

"I-I like it, though. I like that we're... close." Harry dove for the wine. "Okay, help me out though... is it chocolate in here?"

"Absolutely not. Try again. How is it different from the last one?"

"That was two nights ago!"

His eyes sparkled over the glass, which Harry took as a sign of alcohol setting in.

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically, then stuck out his pinky and placed his nose far into the glass. Feeling ridiculous, he closed his eyes and inhaled a moment. Bored with that, he took a sip, but left it in his mouth and gave a good swish, trying not to think of it as mouthwash. To his credit, he was starting to actually taste the wine; before, he would suck it down and try not to make a face. He could now say with some confidence that he didn't really like Merlot but Shiraz wasn't too bad – Cabernet Sauvignon was the one today because Snape had a certain fondness for it.

"I think it tastes like tree," Harry said bluntly. "Not bad. But definitely tree."

"Good."

"Good? Is it really flavored with tree?"

"Oak, to be exact." He came around and poured him a little more, scooting their chairs closer. Harry felt his heart pick up a bit. Damn it all that he had to smell good, that he'd loosened his collar and exposed his throat. And he was definitely going to get too drunk if he was going to keep tasting it. He took a bit more of the steak Snape had prepared and gave it another try.

Snape spooned a bit of custard, paused, then brought it towards Harry's mouth He flushed, but accept the bite. Then sipped. So there was something in the custard that was probably in the wine, too. But hell if he could figure it out. Maybe Severus might feed him again? Except the guy was twice his age and would no doubt be horrified by the erection threatening to appear. And how stupid had he sounded talking about the days before the war?

Severus tapped the side of his mouth. Harry wiped at it quickly, blushing more. Snape began to clear the plates, which meant it was time to leave soon. They'd sit with coffee and wait for the alcohol to wear off so Harry could apparate well. Of course, there was a perfectly good fire he could travel by sooner, but Floo was hell when you were tipsy. And Harry wasn't really sure _if_ Snape's fire was connected to the network. Floo meant leaving early; no chance of considering that.

Snape was always insistent that he put away the dishes, prepare and set up the coffee. It made Harry feel lazy, but it gave him time to calm down. Against his best judgment, Harry sipped more of the wine, closed his eyes back and concentrated on the flavor. Maybe this one wasn't so bad.

* * *

"So you guys sit back and drink wine?" Ron laughed. Harry was back at his apartment the next afternoon, in the lull of the summer season before classes started and the internships hadn't started, though that hadn't stopped Hermione from getting a leg up. It was a cozy place, paid for by Harry's fortune, Ron's side work with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and Hermione's part-time catering gig. It was also smack dab between the Burrow and Diagon Alley, read in the seemingly middle of nowhere, but it was, nonetheless, a nice place.

"Well, yeah, and he makes dinner. He's working on cooking," Harry replied, somewhat distracted by their game.

"Sure," Ron said.

Harry spoke at the chess board. Ron probably had all his moves planned out by now. "He made steak – I mean he did something with the steak and he put a wine sauce on top. And he did this rice thing and vegetables and it was really good."

Ron was smirking at him.

"We had custard, too!" And it was a total improvement to the kind of food they ate around their own apartment. Ron had no experience when he made dinner and usually did some variation of spaghetti or takeout. Hermione, too, had little experience, but catering nights meant leftovers. Harry, himself, could do breakfast pretty well from his days with the Dursleys. It also meant Ron was always requesting bacon and – as anyone knows – bacon is the most exhaustive of breakfast foods to prepare.

"Custard!" Ron exclaimed.

"Well maybe I could ask him to make enough to bring back," Harry said defensively, moving his queen across the board.

"I'm sure he would," Ron said with the tone of higher knowing.

"And what does that mean?"

"It's probably because he wants to bugger you,"Ron said, tapping one of his pawns who was thrusting his sword at the queen in front.

Harry stared at him, mouth agape.

"Oh hey! You didn't know? He's gay, mate. Buggers men," Ron flashed an infamous Weasley grin. "Sorry, I'm just playing with you. He knows you're not, anyways. Oy!" The last he directed to his bishop, who was propelled moved a few spaces over.

Harry steadied his hand.

"You really didn't know? Merlin, sorry. I meant to warn you. But you know we've got your back if he tried anything."

Harry glanced at Hermione who had finally surfaced from her textbook. She had her hair bond tight against her, one pencil in hand, the other stuck through her hair. "He's been so good for you, Harry. I do hope you won't stop your friendship."

"Good for me?" Harry scoffed. "What does that even mean?"

"It means..." Hermione trailed off.

"-That you use to kind of mope around before Snape," Ron finished. "But look, a wizard makes a pass at you, you drop that guy."

Harry checked Ron's king, ended the game in a few moves and stood, determined.

"Need anything while I'm out?"

* * *

Harry was calm up until the point he was outside the man's apartment and after one knock, his fist knocked harder and harder until he was driven into some kind of man frenzy and when the door opened and he would've pummeled Severus Snape if that man hadn't dodged it and Harry had stepped aside.

"You didn't tell me!" Harry hissed angrily.

Snape's look was priceless. They hadn't arranged for dinner that night, but Snape nevertheless let him through. When the door closed, Harry spoke quickly before he lost courage. He felt his blood surge against his neck.

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU WERE GAY!" he exploded, ripping off his coat.

And then suddenly Severus looked angry, even more angry than the time he'd caught Harry in the pensieve. "Oh, so you thought I've been eyeing you all this time?!" he roared,"Bout to jump your bones, _molest _you. Is that it, Harry Potter? That just because I prefer men, I prefer _every _man that walks into the same room, that-

"I-" Harry cut in, hot tears blurring his vision. "Goddammit, I felt so _alone_!" And god-double-dammit he was crying, _bawling_.

From the corner of his eye, he could feel Snape hovering by him, apparently unsure what to do when people burst in, yelled incoherently then burst into tears.

"I... apologize," he said softly, kneeling near him. He touched his elbow gently, waited, then gave a more solid presence. "You haven't spoke to anyone?

"Ron? Hermione?" Harry shook his head and steadied his breath. "How can I?" he barely whispered. "They're all I've got."

There was a squeeze, then his hand was gone. "I'll make some tea."

* * *

Harry crossed his arms and stared at his feet. The tea marginally helped and it was nice that the man could remember the way he liked his tea. It had a bit of a spice that warmed him down to his toes, grounded him in place. Like Snape. Who was giving him that look of pity that usually annoyed Harry, but now he needed something like that. He needed to know he wasn't the only one, that someone didn't find him disgusting. He took a few more breaths.

"When did you...?" Harry began. "When did you know you were gay?"

"I think I was always... aware," he replied thoughtfully, as if it was just the right question to ask. As if he had just been waiting for this conversation. "I knew in my second year, at least – you won't like who." There was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Harry glanced up. "No... No way."

"Mm. Lucius Malfoy."

Harry looked offput. He set down his mug carefully. After a quick mental debate, he caved and opened up. "The guys in the locker room – I always wanted to look at them, while they were trying to catch the girls off-guard." He blushed, especially for admitting to voyeur days. "But really, a _Malfoy_?"

"He has a certain presence. Not quite anymore, but back then... before he took the mark."

"But he's not – not right now?"

"It's..." Snape twirled his own mug around. "Well, it's a little complicated. I'm not sure it's my place to say, but I don't really care. Lucius doesn't believe in love – he believes in compatible matches and sexual relations. Always been the aristocrat."

"Did you...?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself. "Do you...?"

"Hardly." He steadied his hand. "I mean, there was a time – a _brief_ time. And some times after."

He felt stupid, jealous. He pushed his cup away. "How did you find out he was...?"

"Gay, Harry. You can say it."

"How did you know he was gay?" Harry corrected himself, blushing.

"Well, I didn't have much to lose when he approached me. This was after school, when I first... joined." He gripped the table hard, then continued. "I don't want you to misunderstand what happened. I would've joined whether or not Lucius had been involved." Harry hated that Snape called him by his first name like that. "There's not a way to _know _for sure – you know who is and isn't. You have to take risks sometimes."

"I'm not really familiar with taking risks."

That lightened the mood.

Even more, Snape asking: "Do you want to go out tomorrow night?"

* * *

They agreed to meet at 8 – a few short hours later, in fact - in front of Snape's cottage. Snape hadn't been clear where they were going, but he'd told him to dress well and muggle. Fed up with his own indecision, Harry put on a subtle, but tight-fitted set of pants. His shirt was nice, loose, with an indiscriminate logo.

Snape, however, came up with his long, black hair tied back, accompanied with shades, a tight shirt and pants combo that Harry was having a hard time looking away from.

"There's a place I'm going to take you," he said with a tip of his sunglasses and a sort of conspiracy in his voice. "It's muggle, bit underground, bit shady."

"But _what_ is it?"

Snape offered his arm; Harry didn't hesitate, excitement bubbling inside him.

* * *

La Scène Éloignée

From behind, Snape guided Harry by the shoulder to the front door, down steps and through. Music jumped at them, lights blared in fast sequence. Snape's voice was in his ear: "Stay close." Harry had never seen so many people in one place, dancing together in a massive wave. At closer look Harry noticed that in front of him were two men dancing, and by them a ménage à trois. Wide-eyed, he turned back to the man behind him, who was grinning genuinely ear-to-ear. "Do you feel so alone now?"

How could he? They were moving through the crowd, music pumping in their ears. A thrill started at the small of his back. Snape's hands trailed down to his hips, urging him to dance. _Careful, Careful, Professor_. Yes, he needed to move his hands away, to stop tempting himself. _You're a mentor. _

When he let go, another swiftly moved into place. Harry turned surprised to meet with a young man his age, less clothing. They had similar dark hair, this one's most likely dyed, rough. He was handsy, but Harry seemed all right.

"Is he yours?" a voice breathed on his neck. He tilted his neck to the side, moved his hips against the body behind him. Warmth pressed back.

"Mmm, in a way - that one must be yours."

The man bit on his exposed skin. He inhaled sharply. In front of him, Harry was being guided front-to-front with the boy, Harry picking up on the rhythm. "Justin's seems fond of your... friend."

"It does seem mutual."

His hands trailed along his hipbone. Without much ado, the man behind said. "I've a private booth. Justin?"

Harry followed Justin's gaze, eye catching his own. Snape measured the safety of their situation. He had a wand, Harry had a wand. The pair might've been drunk, otherwise drug-free. He gestured for them to lead the way, past the wave of bodies, through a set of doors, a balcony over the chaos. It was a simple round room, a cushion that wrapped around and a small table for drinks.

"The name's Armand, by the way. Armand Goldman" He was older, perhaps not by much with short waves of dark hair combed back. Justin snuggled under his arm, looking pleased with himself. Taking cue, Harry sat by him. Snape covered his knee. "Severus; Harry."

"How long you've been coming here?" the older man asked.

"His first night."

"Showing me to the best gay clubs," Harry said cheekily.

"How generous," Armand said."How'd the two of you meet?"

"Oh, he was my professor," Harry said, clearly enjoying the shock value. "What about you guys?"

Snape squeezed his knee.

"We met here," Armand said, tossing the younger's hair around. "Care for a drink?" The young man beamed from the attention.

"Ah, not tonight," Severus answered for them, jiggling his leg a bit then stopping himself. "Harry has an engagement in the morning."

"Another time, then."

The youth murmured into his lover's ear, who smiled back and gave him a kiss that even Snape felt in his gut. Harry squirmed next to him. Sweat had broken out across his collar, his cheeks were flushed the way wine did him in all too quickly. His hand burned to travel up his leg, take advantage of their situation. No, he wouldn't let that part of him take over. He, too, whispered in his pretend lover's ear. "All right?"

"I'm all right." But are you all right with me? It was well to do that Harry had picked up on the cue to let Snape claim him, but the young man was beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to push the boundaries of their pretense.

"Say the word and we'll leave." Even then he couldn't help aiming his warm breath into the other's ear.

"Say you'll come play with us sometime," Justin said directly to Harry. His lover chuckled. Harry looked startled, then pleased.

"Why wait?" Armand asked, settling back.

Snape glanced out their window, below several bodies pressed together, an undulating wave of alcohol and glitter.

But Justin had come and taken to Harry's other side. His lover poured a drink for himself. Justin coaxed him closer than kissed him. Someone could be tempted to call them twins, if they hadn't known one previously – that within itself had Severus's mind reeling. Justin overtook Harry, urged them horizontal until Harry was in Snape's lap and he had a brief moment of glancing up at the man for permission. Justin smiled at him, at Snape. "Do you like to watch?" he purred, and seeing no offense, bent down to tease Harry with light kisses.

"Now don't get carried away, Justin," his lover warned.

Was this how muggles entertained one another? Snape thought to himself, brushing back the youth's hair. His lover, his master, whatever they chose to call one another – his eyes's glinted with dark lust, one obviously to watch. Was that how he'd look at Harry? He controlled himself, waited out the scene.

"Had your fun, Harry?" Snape asked the Potter boy, the one boy he should never so much as glance or flirt toward.

Harry's cheeks darkened, he nodded mutely. Severus touched his shoulder, their cue to leave.

"Drop by anytime," the man invited, slipping a card in Severus's hand.

"That was... that was _incredible_," Harry gushed outside his door. How badly he was tempted to take him to his rooms. How stupid he was being, but the dizzy scent of arousal wasn't helping.

"Spoiled, you are!" And beautiful – and sexy – and young – _No_. _Don't mess this up_. "Do you see now, Harry? You're not alone in this." There! That was his role, as mentor.

Harry beamed. Positively beamed.

* * *

"So he's not yours?" Armand asked. "Not yet, anyways?"

"Not anytime," Severus Snape admitted. "It's a complicated situation."

"How complicated?"

How to explain it? But Armand was friendly, and harmless, a muggle no less. When Snape returned to the club the next evening, he bumped right into Armand Goldman again. They'd taken drinks up to his private room and struck up an easy friendship. Armand had even asked for his company to a café, a quaint place they were in now. Severus relaxed his guard. "The boy doesn't have parents or any stability – I don't wish to take that away from him for my own sexual gratification. He's had a hard life."

"That's noble of you."

Snape snorted. Someone calling him noble? "I have a lot of past deeds to make up for."

"Don't we all?" Armand said charitably. He swirled his glass around. "You might not like this, but I have a sort of business proposal." Snape tensed up. Never a good sentence. "My pet has been restless lately – I, well, quite frankly, I can't keep up with him. You, my friend, seem equally restless. " Snape's eyes narrowed, he was waiting for the catch, the request, so he could immediately turn it down.

"Are you suggesting I pretend to be you?" he asked, letting a bit of shock into his voice.

"Heavens, no!" Armand corrected. "You misunderstand me. I... you see, Justin's quite fond of you. I meant to suggest a weekly liaison between him and yourself. A way to, shall we say, lessen the load for yourself and myself." He wiped his mouth and laughed softly. "To tell the truth, I'm already sorry I brought this up. It was too forward of me. When I think of Justin's happiness, I get carried away with my thoughts."

Snape took a careful sip of his own wine. "You're making a big request," he said slowly. _"Do you like to watch?"_

"Please forget the matter. I don't wish to lose a friend that I can speak frankly about these matters. It's not... always easy to strike friendships in this life."

Fair point. Lucius had been that for him at one point. When Lucius no longer wanted sex from him, they sat together over drinks and discussed their lifestyle. It was Lucius and his conquests; Severus and his achievements. He sighed.

"I worry about acting on my desires with Harry," he admitted. "He's enamored with this life, knowing he doesn't have to hide who being gay. I remember that feeling. I remember I would've gone with any man who'd ask, it was a confusing time. I want to be there for Harry."

"You're quite in love with him, aren't you?"

He didn't answer, but instead took another sip. In _love_? Enamoured, infactuated, overtaken by... but... _love_? He pushed aside the image of the mischevious young man with sparkling green eyes and toned, _sculpted_ arms-

"If that's the case,"Armand spoke up. "I open back my offer to you – You may work out the frustrations you feel for the boy, while my own works out the frustrations of his youth. We can start whenever you like."

Severus's head shot up. "I hope you're not expecting me to pay," he said drily. _Let that be the catch that stops me_.

He chuckled as if the idea was entirely left-field. "I only ask to supervise; for his safety, if you understand. Justin is still my lover."

To Snape's silence, he prompted "Tonight?"

* * *

Snape had done a lot of rather messed up things, but coming into this man's home was nearing the top of his list. He illusioned a muggle vehicle to appear parked somewhat down the path, under one of the many trees. Hell, the place was nearly as extravagent as Lucius's, and made him feel just as uneasy. A castle, sure he was use to, but the home of one man?

It was Justin that greeted him at the door, with a bottle in hand, and robe hanging half-off his small body. He was a skinny thing, not quite as muscular as Harry, but just as tall and just as mischevious. Chattering about the weather, Justin led him along a side hallway, up a staircase, and finally to a room with some seats. Snape recognized a television and radio, tucked all into wooden pieces. Armand was seated at a long couch.

"I'm glad you came," Armand told him, looking pleased. "Please, do come in."

Snape took place in a couch facing the other and accepted a glass of amber liquid Justin slipped him.

There was a bottle of scotch on the table between, not quite the burn Snape was use to but he accepted it all the same. He nearly burst into laughter from the whole situation. But really – a man like him, about to bugger someone else's mate? And especially when this youth could have whoever he wanted _surely_. Unless it was a matter of who would agree to those kinds of terms. He, admittedly was nervous, but so was the boy. Justin sat by his mate, looking nervous, but excited. Excited for him? Or perhaps a cock was just a cock.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked before, but no STDs, anything of the sort?" Armand said, rising to his feet, Justin jumping up.

"None," he confirmed, hardly aware of _what _he was confirming. He abandoned the drink, with no choice but to follow the pair to an adjoining bedroom.

In the bedroom, Justin took no more time and began unbuttoning Severus's top pressing light kisses to each new exposed area. It was a practiced sort of patience, though his hips were wriggling. Snape looked for permission, then kissed him, mashing their bodies together, rib to rib. Justin let out a soft whine. Snape urged him to the bed, laying him on the covers. Justin pushed the shirt off.

In all his experience, Snape was quick to let his hands do the talking, rather than his bedmate to get a look at him, lest he change his mind. He knew himself he was a hard sight to take in – he was pasty, frail-thin, with a chest of short, uninspired hairs. But he was a hell of a kisser. And in between kisses, he was unrobing the man, working on his thighs, his balls. The boy was hard, was loud, _delicious_. In haze he grasped around Snape's neck and murmured "Call me Harry."

In his own haze, he did, closing his eyes and trying to see the boy that had been in the club, flushed, around his guiding hands. "Harry, Harry, Harry, tell me what you want." He'd long sense begun to ignore the other's presence, the alcohol doing a number on his head.

"You," croaked Not-Harry. "Want you."

"What part do you want, Harry?" Severus murmured, overtaken by the idea of Real-Harry saying the same.

"This," he moaned, stroking him under the fabric. "Inside me."

"I'll give it to you, Harry."

In the back of his mind, Snape knew they were being watched. He saw Not-Harry/Justin would look out for a bit, momentarily anxious before falling back into their game.

"Severus," he whispered. It brought chills down his spine. "I'm ready for you."

He moved one hand along the curve of his ass, stopped at the ring of muscle, loose already. He moaned, dipped two fingers in and rubbed them against the heated insides. Not-Harry grabbed him, gasped outloud. "Yes, _yes_, please – p-please Severus."

"Anything, Harry," he breathed. Not-Harry arranged himself, bent his legs into the air and over Snape's shoulders. Harry wouldn't have known to be get ready, would've been able to flex his legs like that, but goddammit, why did it matter? With great concentration he yanked down his pants, pulled out his cock and gave it a few sympathetic strokes, coating it with slick cum. Not-Harry was biting on his knuckle, quivering head to toe. He wasted no time; he pressed his cock deep in the boy, last of his reason abandoned.

* * *

Somehow Snape felt that his actions would be branded on his forehead, much like Harry's scar, when they met the next night. He still didn't trust himself to be alone with Harry and was quick to arrange for a public dinner. As if last week hadn't happened, Harry talked about his internship and Snape contributed on the status of his current article. As per their own tradition, they split a bottle of Pinot Noir and continued the exercise of enjoying wine properly. Harry picked out some two flavors, but Snape suspected he'd read them off the bottle. Snape drank in the way his lips moved, the red on his cheeks, the curl of his fingers on his free hand. He was at a loss of words, but Harry had plenty.

"I had a case yesterday," Harry said. "Really ridiculous. There were doxies – the family couldn't be bothered to clear them, you know, too rich. Then once they see my scar, it's all – you know, praise and excuses. Like, they would've done it themselves and _had they known. _And they – they even _tipped_ me. You're not supposed to tip, and I didn't know what to say, but it was so annoying. I'm sorry, I sound ungrateful. It's crazy."

Snape tried to follow the stream of thought, but the deep, burn in his gut kept distracting him. "If it bothers you that people recognize you, then cover up that scar of yours."

"I've _tried_. But I don't want to hide under glamours either or any of that." He twirled his fork around. There seemed to be something else he wanted to say, but instead he took the bottle of wine and split it between them, a slight pout. Snape guessed he was aiming to go to another club, but Severus was far from up for it. If Harry asked, he had engagements every day of that week. And the next.

* * *

"So what happened, mate?"

Harry stared at his friend, determined to keep his face blank.

"You said you were going to confront him," Ron continued. Hermione had scored them fried chicken and potatoes that night that Ron had entirely inhaled in one-go.

"Right." Harry thought quickly, stirring his food around. "I did, it was weird. We talked about it. I'm not holding him against it, and he definitely doesn't have a thing for me." The truth of the last statement hit a little too close to home, but it seemed more and more true. Snape had been charming; he'd claimed him and protected him in the club and they still went out, but nothing had changed. After nearly throwing himself after the man that night, it didn't seem likely. In fact, that whole thing felt stupid.

But he should've been grateful for what the guy was doing. Snape hadn't held it against him for acting stupid. In fact, he seemed no different. He'd even paid for Harry's meal when they went out now, which Harry took as a "no hard feelings, but let's still be friends" deal.

"You sure?"

To what? Harry shrugged.

Ron went back to his maniac feast.

* * *

"There's something else I want to try tonight," Armand said, settled in his corner chair. "It was far too rushed last time, I need to see a slow strip, ah. A bit of tongue action, if you understand."

Justin was flushing, a sort of blotchy-look. He peered at Snape for his own reaction, to which he shrugged. "I do have the time," he confirmed outloud. A week had passed; today, Justin had taken him directly to the bed.

"Excellent," Armand said, sipping his drink. He sat with his legs wide, shameless, but powerful and elegant even.

Justin's gaze turned back to Snape; he kissed him softly, sweetly. Severus inhaled the flowery scent; Harry would never smell like that, but he could adjust. Justin was submissive, needy, a perfect young toy. Men paid highly for a night with someone like him, but here he was in his arms, the "slimy, greasy git." He remembered Harry's voice, his lips, he closed his eyes. Imagined those lips working his lower half and gripped onto the dyed hair.

* * *

This routine became his new life. Snape would see Justin the night before, see Harry the night after, and still maintained the type of control he wanted in order to appear the proper gentleman.

Harry seemed to enjoy the nights they took out together and started suggesting places to go. They had even planned to take a few weekends to learn about wine in small gatherings. Harry – his Harry – had also hinted at having gone out the night before with a date of his own.

With a slip of his tongue, he asked "Do you think your new date will be jealous of our time together?"

"It's not like there's anything between us," Harry had said, almost harshly. But he followed it with a teasing smile. "No, I think it'll be okay."

"Of course."

Severus stared at Harry, tempted to peer into his mind – how opposed would've he been to mistaken as _his_ lover? He entertained the thought a moment. Here they were, two men dining together and dressed well. Did people think he was Harry's father? They certainly didn't look alike... No, he shouldn't entertain those thoughts. What good would they have done? He sighed. Perhaps he could get Harry to join him in the club again? And if Justin was there? Well, he was sure the two could keep mum. He wasn't thinking clearly.

"Is everything all right?" Harry cut into his thoughts.

"Mm," he answered, diving for more wine.

"You weren't listening to me." He sounded testy – classic Harry. He had the fury of a thousand men combined once provoked.

"You're right. I was thinking. Tell me again."

"Forget it," he sulked. "It wasn't all too important."

Couples were dancing on the floor, Severus noticed then. No couples the same-sex, but the room was dimly-lit. Tempting. "Tell me, Harry."

Harry was looking at something past him, longing even, then gave a half-shrug. "I was thinking we might try the place down the street. It seems nice."

* * *

Then Harry skipped out on that very dinner. He said it was work, but Snape was all too aware of the truth. There was no headache and there was no overtime business. That wasn't Harry. He simply didn't want to go.

But what mistake had he made? Severus had tried to be as amicable as possible. He listened to Harry and they talked about everything, it did seem. Except... he might've taken too much notice of the boy when the wine flowed. He filled his eyes of the boy; he was always hungry for more. He closed his eyes and rolled through the last few conversation they'd had but it piled up into one huge mess, to a mismatch of remembered smiles and hand gestures and bright eyes. _God_. _He _was the mess.

If he couldn't have one, then, he supposed he would have the other.

Justin seemed surprised when he opened the door, but he smiled brightly and urged him in and no sooner they took to the bed.

"Will he mind?" Severus murmured against his chest, meaning Armand, of course. Cruelly he nipped at the youth's skin

"Ahh, oh- No, he's, ah, not here."

"I'm sure we had a certain condition," Snape returned, nipping him lightly near his hip. Justin's back arched, erection warm against his neck.

"I'm – ah – I'm not his only one," he said, gripping Severus's black strands. "I'm glad you're here. I was – was lonely."

Snape came back to stare at him. "He has someone new?"

Justin's hip bucked, seeking friction"I-yeah – please, oh, please – it feels like it's been so long," he whined, moving to give his cock a quick jerk.

"What are you talking about? How long?"

"Weeks," Justin breathed.

Voices came from the other end of the house; Snape bolted up, recognizing one immediately. Justin was touching his shoulder, trying to pull him back, but he was up, righting himself and following the voices, all the way down the stairs to another part of the home.

Laughter, glasses, shuffling. And Harry,_ Harry_ being touched by Armand, kissing. He was grinning widely, flushed, hiding behind his glass.

"Oh Severus!" Armand said pleasantly, eyes with a mad glint, catching his entrance at once.

Harry's eyes were wide, glazed – he was far from comfortable with whiskeys."Harry, get the hell away from him!" Severus blurted out, painfully aware that his chest was uncovered.

Armand untangled himself from Harry and sat up. Brushing Harry's bangs back, he murmured. "Would you like to know what your friend is doing here so late – what he's _been_ doing?" Snape's face went angry red. "This man – this man – has been with Justin, yes, _my _Justin every week, calling him by your name. He's been _with _him, Harry. They've made _tapes_." _Tapes, once! _Severus mentally screamed. _And it was your idea!_

"Or one that breaks young men only to leave them once more?" Snape growled. Justin had just entered the room, looking sad and lost at Harry, who stared back between them shocked. Something in Armand's brown eyes reminded Severus so much of the Dark Lord, so much disturbingly so. But Snape was a practiced man with handling men like him and was quick to recover. He glared into those brown eyes and parried back, "Harry, tell me why this man has abandoned his own lover, why this sudden interest-"

"Sudden interest? I've been keen on this boy from first sight," Armand replied. Justin beside him froze up.

"You planned this," Snape whispered. "You planned all of this!" He glanced desperately at Harry. Severus had been a fool, had missed every warning sign and in his protecting himself from Harry, he'd left Harry wide open to a man like this.

Emerald eyes bounced between the men, resting on Snape last. There was an undeniable anger behind his steady gaze that Severus had seen long ago. "I need to talk to you," he said, rising from his place.

"By all means," Armand said, taking a sip from his drink. Justin flattened himself against the doorway when Harry stormed through, Snape following.

Harry stormed all the way to the front door, towards their gardens, and stalking further and further out.

"How long have you-?"Snape shouted to his back.

"Did you do what he said you did?" Harry cut in, turning on his heel. Behind him, a tree stood tall and intimidating and Snape thought at any moment it would uproot and become Harry's bodyguard. _"Answer me_."

"Yes."

"You – "Harry laughed "– You had someone else pretend to be me instead of coming to me about it. You had _sex_ with someone and called him _my name_. That's fucked up. That's totally fucked up. And you _did that to him_." Severus crossed his arms, feeling sick.

"Tell me what would you have done in my situation?" Severus said softly. He stepped forward. Never a man to back down, he pinned Harry to the tree. "I'm a man that has prided myself of my self-control – up until the point I met you, not one piece of rationality saves me now. No, I had so many excuses to keep away until you became a part of my life, until you _reciprocated_ my affections. I knew I was losing out to my desires when I took you to that club, when you glanced at me." Now face-to-face, he grabbed at Harry's lower lip. Softly. "How would you have received me then, your mentor turned predator?"

He looked frozen in place. "I-I wanted you. I've wanted you a long time." Harry regained himself, shoved his hand away, but Snape caught his wrist. "I would have never done what you did!"

"Is that so?"

"Let go."

"What made you chose a man like Armand – one who was _ob-vious-ly_ attached?"

"I was told Justin was leaving him," Harry yelled, yanking his arm back.

"Or perhaps – perhaps you were looking for an older man to replace me!"

"Shut up, it's not the same thing!" Harry yelled, his neck darkening with fury. "It's nowhere near the-"

"_And I wasn't tricked either?_" Severus roared. "To hell with this!"

And then Severus kissed those soft, parted lips, kissing him with all the restraint he'd had, all that strength gone. And Harry was kissing him back, allowing him to pry through his teeth and his shirt and every piece of him returning all the feelings built inside him, arms coming around his neck and pulling him closer. And Snape loved the inexperienced movement of his lips, the tight hold around his neck and the tremble in his legs. He pulled back long enough to see his bruised lips, the wild tint in his green eyes, now bright, no, wet. Tears.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered. "I'm an idiot."

"This is – this is beyond fucked up," Harry panted.

"I know." It was too late to be holding back. Snape wiped Harry's tears, he kissed his forehead and his eyes and raked his hair back and tried not to think of La Scène and the muggles and scotch and the entire business of the growing list of all the stupid things he'd done. "Let's just get out of here."

"And what about Justin? What about him?" Harry rounded on him. "In case you didn't notice, he was upset. He was really upset."

"What the hell do you want me to do?" Severus growled. "I-"

"You've been sleeping with him," Harry said simply. "And he needs someone to-"

"To what?" he cut in. "Harry, he was aware of what was happening."

Harry worried his lip (looking all the more a temptation), and glanced at the house. Snape touched his cheek, brought him back. "The damage was done all ready," Severus said softly. "Can we just go?"

Epilogue

Snape buttoned his sleeves up and brandished a wide-glass, swirling it with every step. As per request, Snape had tied his hair back and donned the tight pants once more. His hips moved to the brass band, the sweet coax of the crooners. They'd moved all Snape's furniture to the sides of the small living space for just the occasion of recreating a better memory than the "Great Club Mistake." Snape crooked his finger and Harry set his own glass aside.

"Do you want to know what I've dreamed of doing?" he murmured in Harry's ear, plucking his glasses off and resting them on a bookshelf. His hands drifted down the curves of his lover, slid around to the back and grasped firmly. Harry arched against him, sighed into his neck.

"Oh Armand!" Harry mock-swooned.

Severus swatted him, then once more, aimed to draw out a cry. Mercilessly he kneaded the globes of round flesh, drinking in the easy blushes eliciting from his young lover. "I've wanted so – _so_ much to play with your ass."

Harry's eyes widened, his entire body was warm, his erection already hard against his hip. Severus brought him closer, rubbed Harry against him.

"This is..." Harry began and laughed. "You're awful!" He grabbed his face and planted messy kisses against him, looking pleased and beautiful and _his_. "Is this a fetish you have!"

"Your ass is particularly fine," Severus replied, nudging the curve of Harry's neck to widen. He marked kisses over his throat, covered every inch he could reach. Harry's eyes rolled close, he anchored himself grabbing at his hair. "_Merlin_..."

"Oh _Professor_," Harry breathed. This one he preferred; he gave a squeeze as a mark of approval. "Hey – how long have you, ooo... dreamed of doing all this?"

"Now _that_, I will not own up to," Severus laughed.

Harry made a face at him. "I thought about you back in Hogwarts," Harry let on. The man looked so shocked, Harry laughed. "I really did!"

"You're putting me on!"

"Believe what you want," Harry said with a sort of flippancy. The tables had turned at this point, it was Harry leaning toward him, teasing him. "I won't tell you when, but I thought you were sexy even back then."

"Come off it," he said faintly.

"Why do you think I did so bad in Potions?" Harry continued, warming up to the game. His hand dropped down his chest, trailed down to Severus's own needy organ. His breath came out ragged at first stroke. "I, I mean, yeah I hated you, but I also wanted you to bend me over and-"

Harry wasn't able to finish the thought, his lover had pulled him close and covered his mouth with his own, this kiss sweeter and gentler and filled with all the emotion they'd been holding back, all the words they would say later and the promises of more.

FIN

A/N: The character name Justin is from _Queer as Folk_ (US), Armand Goldman is Robin William's character in _The Birdcage_. Couldn't help myself. Furthermore, _La Scène Éloignée_ is meant to translate as "Distant Scene" or something equally cutesy, but it's neither here nor there! Thanks for reading!


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